After Lilith
by MyChemicalBetrayal
Summary: Abel contemplates love and purpose after Lilith's death. M for darkness. Flames welcomed.


I do not own Trinity Blood or any of the characters.

Abel Nightroad knelt beside his beloved. Light from the reddish vampire's moon glinted off the glass face of the stasis chamber, no, the coffin. His eyes glazed over with tears obscuring and blurring the features of the one entombed. He replaced the blurry image with one from his mind's eye. Light dazzled in her golden eyes, and he remembered the smoothness of her dark skin and the silkiness of her red hair. Her scent had filled his nose and her lips were soft. He abruptly pulled himself away from those thoughts, the reflecting red light a knife in his soul. She was gone, and those thoughts were no longer for him. He tore himself from the light and the image slumping down by the side of the coffin. It was too hard to rise to his feet and the emotional pain too great, so he closed his eyes for sleep. He would keep his vigil. He would keep it until the blissful oblivion of death took him from the emotional agony and physical starvation. Sleep took him as that last hope filled his mind.

He awoke stiff, sore, and covered with dust. Coughing, he fumbled in the dark for the timer on the coffin. The date glowed dimly under the smudged and dirty display mocking him and his senses. He weakly regained his feet only to feel the Krusnik's hunger besiege him. He pushed the Krusnik away violently and stiffly limped out of the cavern.

After several days, he returned to her sanctuary. His emotional pain had transformed from a sharp agony to a terrible ache, and his thoughts swirled. He had not aged a day in 500 years. The methuselah she had worked with within the Vatican were dead. Her legacy was still alive, but her dreams stalled. He slumped against the coffin wondering what he should do. Half his family was dead, and the other half he abandoned. She would have wanted him to start over and move on. She would have wanted him to love again.

What would be the point of loving another woman? Terrans were a poor choice, because in short years he would be heartbroken again. With each new love, a new cycle of heartbreak would begin. Methuselah would live much longer, but the problem was still the same. Heartbreak was terrible. It was that searing physical pain in his heart, an open wound in his soul, if there was such a thing. He had subjected countless millions to that horrible feeling. He broke the hearts of the ones he loved and in the end, he couldn't even do them the favor of saving their lives.

And then there was the real reason - the true reason he could not have anybody else. He, the Monster, didn't deserve it. His genocide and fratricide had damned him. He was a terror to the powerless and a pool of santorum to himself. His every failure reminded him potently that he never belonged and was not worth loving or saving. Bitterly, he arrived at his conclusion: love was only a betrayal waiting to happen. Love was faith. Once faith is removed, there is only the darkness of despair, hopelessness, and nothingness. Loneliness intruded upon his introspection. Death is a blessing and release from the loneliness and responsibility from what he had done and had yet to do.

But, death was the easy way out, the coward's way. He would not allow himself to escape his punishment so easily. Her vision was his punishment, and he would toil to accomplish it.

It was a responsibility that suddenly bore down on him with a great weight, the purpose of his existence intertwining with it. It was just as impossible as he was irredeemable. The blackness of despair confronted him. He already fucked up so much. Why would this be any different? He closed his eyes and let the peace of sleep take him.

_ Clang_. His mind bubbled back to consciousness. He opened his eyes drowsily, the sound of a faint but panicked pant reaching his ears. A narrow bar of light illuminated the far end of the tomb, and laughter sounded beyond it. Shadows appeared in the light, and he rubbed his eyes groggily trying to sort out the situation. A small form tripped over his extended legs crying out. He tried to move only to find the terrified eyes of a young woman gazing into his. He hesitated to respond. With a cry of pain she was suddenly snatched backwards by one of the dark forms. Wet fangs glistened in the dim light.

He knew what to do now, and all hesitation vanished. He would protect this Terran. No, he would protect this human. They were no different from Methuselah after all. It was something he knew he could do. As he rose to his feet, that spark of hope ignited something within him. It was a small step, but for once, he felt at peace.


End file.
